


In The Roses

by Sapphic_Futurist



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Accidental kidnapping, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cat Tony Stark, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, M/M, No Civil War Discourse, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Shifters, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26580118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphic_Futurist/pseuds/Sapphic_Futurist
Summary: Tony was curled up underneath one of the old oak trees, enjoying the cooling evening breeze on his fur when everything changed. A flesh hand clamped down over the back of his neck and a metal one wrapped around his midsection, immobilizing him with a screech of alarm. In a tornado of claws and teeth, Tony was lifted off the ground and he twisted against Bucky’s hold.Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 38
Kudos: 609
Collections: Stuckony Summer Stocking 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newtypeshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [newtypeshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/pseuds/newtypeshadow) in the [stuckony_summer_stocking_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stuckony_summer_stocking_2020) collection. 



> For newtypeshadow and their prompt: new pet is actually a shifter in hiding. 
> 
> I hope this makes you laugh, I had a blast writing it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The cat was back and bolder than ever.

Bucky watched the little creature luxuriating in the sun, just on the edge of the forest line as he soaked up the last of the summer heat. He’d first noticed the cat on a Saturday afternoon, perched on one of the higher levels of the Compound with his rifle propped against the edge of the roof. What had started as target practice, mapping out the edge of the sprawling property with a lazy cock of his rifle, became a game of observing the cat through the length of his scope.

It was a small, slight thing, jet black with an almost perfect white circle in the centre of it’s chest. There was nothing immediately abnormal about the cat but the longer Bucky watched it the more he realized that the cat wasn’t chasing the birds.

Day after day, the birds hopped nearby and though the cat occasionally offered a slow blink and chattered softly, he never pursued them.

Bucky shifted on the edge of the roof, focusing the scope.

It’d been three weeks he’d been watching now, and it was still difficult to say if the cat had a home. The cat appeared clean and well-fed, healthy enough, but it appeared almost daily and there were no other properties around for miles.

On this particular morning, the cat prowled closer to the Compound than usual, weaving in and out of the flowers that Steve had planted a few days ago. Bucky watched as the cat snuck closer to the rose bush, raising his head to sniff the delicate buds before gnashing his teeth and biting through one of the scarlet blossoms.

Spitting the flower onto the ground, the cat moved on and one by one bit the rose buds off the bush until all that was left was a ruined mess of thorny stems.

Bucky snorted; what a bold, ridiculous little thing. It had spirit, and Bucky appreciated that. This was exactly the kind of cat he’d want for himself and he was going to bring it in. If only he could get his hands on it.

* * *

Tony was curled up underneath one of the old oak trees, enjoying the cooling evening breeze on his fur when everything changed. A flesh hand clamped down over the back of his neck and a metal one wrapped around his midsection, immobilizing him with a screech of alarm. In a tornado of claws and teeth, Tony was lifted off the ground and he twisted against Bucky’s hold.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

His claws scraped ineffectually against the metal arm as Bucky held him at a safe distance, protecting all the warm, squishy bits Tony might sink his teeth into, and started carrying him towards the Compound.

“Settle down, sweet thing. You’re a fiery little creature, aren’t you?”

Oh, he’d show Bucky fiery.

Tony fought, hissing with all the rage he could muster and struggled against the hold on his neck. When Bucky tightened his fingers, Tony’s body started to go limp; a weakness his cat form and human form, unfortunately, shared.

“Steve’s going to get a real kick out of you. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”

Oh, hell no. No way. There was no world in which Tony was going to play housecat to the pair of love-struck, star-crossed WWII lovers. He’d claw his own eyes out first.

Tony struggled the entire way up to Bucky and Steve’s apartment, lashing out again when Bucky set him down on the floor. He aimed for the meat of Bucky’s calf, sinking his teeth in through the thick layer of his jeans before Bucky got the metal hand back on his scruff again and pried him off.

Blood flooded his mouth.

“You little fucker!” Bucky laughed with a surprised gasp of pain. “Listen here, you can’t pull that shit when Steve gets back or there’s no way we’ll win him over. You already destroyed his roses—but we’re not going to tell him about that, are we?”

If cats could grin, Tony would have shot Bucky a shit-eating one.

It wasn’t that he had something against Steve’s roses. They were pretty enough. It’s just they were so… He was just… He was jealous. Okay? It was hard to watch Steve and Bucky together without being jealous.

No one had ever planted Tony a rose bush.

“If I put you down, will you be a good kitty?” Bucky gave him a skeptical look and Tony offered a hiss in return, flattening down his ears at the phrase _good kitty_. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Could you at least be a tolerable kitty?”

That seemed more reasonable.

This time, when Bucky set him back down, Tony flicked his tail and turned away, padding through the apartment and failing not to give into his instinct to mark everything with his scent. As he rubbed up against the edge of the couch, Bucky came too close again, and he darted into the kitchen until he had the high ground on one of the counters.

From that vantage point he kept a cautious eye on Bucky while he took in the surroundings.

“You’re really not going to be an easy sell, are you?” Bucky gestured to the counter which, Tony assumed, must have been off-limits in Bucky’s mind.

Tony sat down, blinking slowly.

With a resigned huff, Bucky tipped his head in begrudging acceptance and stepped further into the kitchen, still giving Tony a wide berth as he fumbled around in the fridge and pulled out a half-eaten roasted chicken. Pulling a few pieces off, Bucky dropped the offering onto a piece of paper towel and pushed it towards Tony, who sniffed and indulged himself. 

Steve’s cooking had always been great.

“You’re a strange cat. You gonna let me pet you, doll?” Bucky’s voice was quiet and cajoling, sending a shiver of pleasure down Tony’s spine and up to the tip of his tail. What he wouldn’t give for that exact same question but in his human form. Naked. With Bucky pressed up against him.

Bucky reached out a hand and Tony gave him a warning growl, baring his teeth just enough for Bucky to yank his hand back with a chuckle.

“We’ll take it slow, then.”

* * *

Bucky watched him for almost an hour, sitting on one of the high island barstools as Tony roamed through the common space, rubbing here and there, and knocking the occasional item off the living room table. The only chastising he earned was when he crept behind the TV, making it quiver where he brushed up against the stand.

Though he didn’t try to touch him again, Bucky talked almost constantly. 

In a sweet, soothing voice, Bucky told him about everything and nothing, and it wasn’t hard to see where his love of animals came from. He regaled Tony with stories about childhood pets, the cat that had taken a chunk out Steve’s hand when they were teenagers, and even the squirrel Bucky had befriended after Steve had rescued him from Azzano.

When Steve finally returned home, Tony thought he might get his chance to escape, prowling close to the elevator door. It was a reasonable assumption that FRIDAY would know to take him down to the subbasement, but the likelihood of that giving away his secret wasn’t worth the risk. Not yet.

“What the hell, Buck?” Steve gave Bucky an arched look as he opened the door, watching Tony dart back to the couch. Blue eyes flickered between Bucky’s smug smirk, and Tony’s blatant disinterest from his perch on their couch.

“I found him in the yard, Stevie. He looked lonely and I think he needs a home.”

“Oh geez.” Steve took a few cautious steps towards him and Tony allowed it, perking up his ears and tilting his head to the left.

“I wouldn’t get too close,” Bucky warned, but Steve had already stepped into Tony’s space to lean against the edge of the sofa beside him.

Steve, the sucker, reached out a hand as if to stroke his head. “A sweet little fella, isn’t he?”

Tony bit Steve, hard, drawing blood and bouncing away before Steve could scruff him, leaping off one of the side tables and onto the desk halfway across the room.

Bucky cackled from his spot at the island, giving Steve an _I told you so_ look. “He’s got spirit alright.”

“He’s a menace.” Steve held his injured hand to his chest, even though the wound was already drying up. “I’m having flashbacks. We’re not keeping him. No way, pal. Absolutely not.”

“But Steve.” Bucky’s eyes turned somber, and Tony knew a man about to get played when he saw one. “I found him. He was out there all alone with nobody to take care of him.” Bucky paused, resting a hand on Steve’s forearm and dialing up the forlorn look in his eyes. “I was a bit of a menace at first, but you kept me, didn’t you?”

Steve opened and shut his mouth, helpless, and Tony filed _that_ away for future coercion purposes.

“Fine,” Steve relented, “but you’re the one taking care of him.”

Bucky grinned. “So, what should we name him?”

The super soldiers argued back and forth for a while and Tony lost interest, pacing through the apartment and peeking into the bedrooms and the bathroom. By the time he wandered back into the living room, they’d agreed that until they got to know Tony better, it was best to put off naming him. 

Steve watched him with extreme distrust, narrowing his gaze when Tony sauntered into arm’s reach and flicked his tail against the edge of Steve’s pant leg. Bucky just smiled, taking it all in and encouraging Steve to reach out and try petting him again as he put an order in on his phone for everything a housecat might need.

“I’m not cleaning up hairballs,” Steve warned, walking into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. “And he better use the litter box, Bucky.”

Tony sniffed. As if he would ever use a litterbox.

He may be a shifter, but he wasn’t so much of a cat that he had no class. Plus, they had to let him go sooner or later, right? He’d hold it.

“He seems smart enough to manage that.” Bucky quirked an eyebrow at Tony who lowered his ears and hunched over. “Look, he’s already warming up.”

Tony hopped up onto one of the barstools, resting his front paws on the counter to investigate and Steve scowled. “Does he really have to sit on the counter?”

“He’s not on the counter, Stevie, he’s sittin’ _at_ the table. A very respectable cat, aren’t you?” Bucky crooned, offering his metal hand again. Tony flinched back but decided to allow it as Bucky ran a gentle thumb across his forehead.

As quickly as he started, Bucky was pulling away, his phone alerting him that their rushed order of supplies was arriving. When he returned, Bucky busied himself with unpacking food bowls and cat toys with Steve at the opposite end of the kitchen plating their dinner.

Bucky spooned a large portion of something that resembled vomit in a can into one of the bowls and set it down on the floor. “Dinner time, kitty.”

Tony jumped down and gave the pile of sludge a lofty sniff. Then he turned tail and sauntered away. _Peasant food_.

Steve rolled his eyes and for a while they ignored him, making easy conversation about their days over dinner. It was surprisingly domestic and Tony felt a familiar ache in his chest, remembering a time where he had thought, maybe, he and Steve might—

It was pointless now.

Although Tony had to admit, he hadn’t anticipated feeling this conflicted. It was hard to distinguish whether he was jealous of Bucky in this scenario, or Steve. When Bucky had come into the picture, everything had become that much more complex. 

“Don’t you think the little white spot is sweet?” Bucky asked, resting his chin in his metal palm and leaving the remainder of his meal pushed aside.

Steve had prepared some sort of filet with a pile of mashed potatoes and vegetables that smelled absolutely divine. Tony wanted to roll in that scent and live in it forever.

“Yes, it’s very sweet.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Stop pretending you don’t like him. He’s going to be a great cat. And don’t you think—”

Steve raised an eyebrow when Bucky broke off and Tony paused to look up at Bucky from down at his feet. “Don’t I think what?”

To Tony’s surprise, a light flush started across the top of Bucky’s cheek. It was sweet and Tony wanted to see it deepen and spread down his throat.

“Don’t you think he looks a little like Tony? That spot could be the arc reactor.”

 _Shit_.

Steve just groaned, grinning as he buried the smile behind his fingers. Maybe he was trying to give Bucky a disapproving look, but laughter danced behind his eyes.

Tony didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

“You’ve got it so bad, Bucky.”

 _Wait, what_?

Bucky groaned. “I can’t help it Steve, he’s just so—it’s like he—” Bucky huffed out a frustrated noise before hanging his head in his hands, fingers dipping into the edge of his hairline and pulling strands loose from his messy bun.

“It’s okay, I get it. No problem here, you know that.” Steve’s voice softened and he reached across the table to squeeze Bucky’s fingers in his own. “You do know that, right?”

Bucky squeezed back. “Yeah, just like you know it.”

As they shared a moment, Tony tried to dig the remainders of his brain out of the figurative blender and chirped from the ground, drawing their attention away. He hoped it would be enough to end whatever conversation _that_ was.

Steve and Bucky. Talking about him. Talking about how it’s okay that Bucky might—that Steve could—no way.

“Aw, he wants a snack,” Bucky said, ripping tiny pieces of steak off his plate and handing it down to Tony with an open palm.

“I wouldn’t—”

“It’s fine, Steve, we’ve done this already, haven’t we, sweet thing? Try it, you’ll like it. Much better than that nasty stuff from the can.”

Tony took the offered meat and with the little mouthful between his teeth, he shifted sideways and brushed up against Bucky’s hand, letting the warm fingers trail against his side as he went.

Bucky’s touch was a line of heat and before he could stop himself, Tony was purring. He tried to cover the sound by chomping loudly on the morsel, but both of them caught it. Stupid enhanced hearing.

Steve smiled down at him like Tony had hung the stars. 

Suckers. The pair of them.

When Tony blinked and looked up, Bucky was staring at him with those wide, green eyes. There was a thin line of sadness traced around his pupils and Tony realized he was the third sucker. 

He braced himself, then jumped up from the floor directly into Bucky’s lap and sat down primly, relaxing into a comfortable crouch.

“Stevie, look at him—”

“Don’t startle him!” Steve urged, craning his neck to see over the table.

Tony closed his eyes and gave over to the purrs that started to rumble through his chest, listening to the way Bucky’s heartbeat started to slow and beat in even times with Tony’s breathing. Tentatively, one hand stroked the length of his back and Tony relaxed further.

The relationship he had with Bucky was a complicated one.

It’s not something he’d chosen, and even when he’d thought they might be able to figure it out, little had changed. Living in the same space had led them to a polite courtesy of avoiding being caught in the same space, only spending time together with plenty of the other Avengers or Avengers-approved family for buffers.

Tony had never seen Bucky this way before, as much as he would have liked the opportunity. The tension about the Winter Soldier was thick and pervasive, creating a chasm of silence and tension that had lived between them for months.

The rhythmic stroking continued for what felt like an eternity, until Tony’s limbs turned to jelly and he was halfway to sleep, pushing the thoughts from his mind.

How long had it been since he’d been held this way?

“Do you want to pet him, too?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence as Steve started to clear dishes from the table.

Steve gave Tony a dubious look and Tony cracked an eye to express his displeasure when Bucky’s petting stopped, but he didn’t shift away. Even as Steve stepped closer and reached out with a painful slowness, Tony waited with a breath trapped in his chest.

Another massive palm stroked over the fur of his back and he let out an interested chirp, the purring renewed with a vengeance as two hands caressed him in unison. One changed course and then there was a knuckle digging into his ear.

Tony leaned into the delicious sensation. God, he hadn’t been touched like this in—

The human in him moaned, longing for something more and for a second, he let himself drift in the vivid fantasy of what it might be like to have Steve and Bucky’s hands on him. Maybe slicked with massage oils, digging into the knots of his shoulders and trailing lower. If he’s lucky.

If he’s _good_.

Tony jolted back to full alert and hopped off of Bucky’s lap, crossing the living room to the door. This was dangerous. Being here, letting this happen... Tony was playing a dangerous game and he was going to need to leave eventually. It might as well be now.

Steve and Bucky watched him, pacing by the elevator as he forced out broken meows, hoping they’d get with the picture and let him go.

“I think he wants to go back outside, Buck.” Steve said, voice soft and sympathizing.

“But he just—”

“I know. But who knows how long he was out there?”

Tony let the meows grow into yowls and Bucky winced, emotions written plain across his face. Tony forced down the guilt. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“What if he does?”

Bucky let out a frustrated noise and gave Steve a look of annoyance. “Maybe we could train him. If he comes back FRIDAY could bring him up in the elevator and take him back down when he wants to go out.”

Steve clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and steered him towards the elevator. “Maybe, Buck. It wouldn’t be so awful, having him around.”

The elevator door opened and Tony flinched back when Bucky went to pick him up, but decided to permit it and relaxed into the cradle against Bucky’s chest.

“He’s already sweeter, see?”

“Maybe for you,” Steve muttered, drawing his hand back as Tony snapped at the tips of Steve’s fingers when Steve attempted to pet him again. He caught the tip of Steve’s index finger and a speck of blood appeared at the tip.

Bucky barked out a laugh. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

The elevator doors opened into the lobby and Steve and Bucky walked out into the setting sun, shadows sprawling long across the courtyard. Once they hit the edge of the grass, Bucky set Tony down and he bounded away, pausing to look back when he’d hit the tree line.

With his enhanced feline hearing, he picked broken bits of their conversations as Steve took in the sight of his rosebush and let out a dismayed noise.

“Oh no, what happened?”

“Oh geez, must’ve been some sort of animal. We can plant a new one together, huh?”

Steve groaned and dropped into a crouch beside the ruined roses, plucking some of the buds off the ground while Bucky rubbed a hand over his back and shot narrowed eyes over his shoulder in Tony’s direction.

He missed the rest of the conversation, but when Bucky and Steve started back towards the Compound a few minutes later, he caught a little more.

“Nice to have a pet again, wasn’t it, Buck?”

“Yeah, remember when we had that injured rabbit, back before we shipped out—”

“—remember the cat that—"

Tony turned away, sprinting back towards the Compound as they disappeared into the lobby and rushing into the entrance to the subbasement. FRIDAY greeted him with a friendly hello and opened the doors to the workshop, blacking out the windows as Tony shifted back to human form.

This had never happened before. A million thoughts raced through his brain at once. He’d been meticulous, only shifting once or twice a week since his late teens and always careful to avoid detection. 

He’d gotten too comfortable since they’d moved out to the Compound, relaxing into the indulgence of almost daily shifting.

Although, to Tony’s credit, he’d never had to worry about a master assassin before now. A master assassin and his super soldier lover who both apparently both had a… a _thing_ for Tony. Which, wasn’t that a revelation and a half?

“FRIDAY?”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“What the fuck just happened?”

There was a long pause, before FRIDAY responded. “I’m not quite sure I understand the question.”

He let out a shaky laugh, running his fingers through his hair as he shoved his legs back into his jeans, not bothering to reply. This couldn’t happen again. Under no circumstances was he going back to that apartment, and somehow, he was going to have to figure out an alternative to shifting at least for a little while.

If he went too long, he felt itchy. Like something inside him was desperate to get out, keeping him up through the night and interfering with his work. It had been easier just to indulge the desire. But maybe he’d gotten too comfortable, shifting more than was absolutely necessary.

He’d managed to only do it once or twice a month when he’d still lived with Howard. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had been bearable.

It would have to do.

* * *

It kept happening. A few times. More than were reasonable, by Tony’s standard, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay away.

After a week without shifting, Tony was exhausted. The bags under his eyes deepened into a purple that looked almost black and Clint had teased him about how closely they resembled a pair of shiners. Even Steve had asked after him and if he was well.

He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t focus.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky, the way his gentle eyes and gentler hands treated him with such a delicate softness. It was a stark contrast to the Winter Soldier or maybe just the man that Tony had created in his mind to somehow keep him separate and avoid dishonouring the memory of his mother.

So, he’d shifted back, wandering into the newest additions of Steve’s garden where he knew Bucky would be watching for him. Seeing Bucky appear in the entrance of the Compound with a hopeful smile on his face made Tony melt quicker than he cared to admit. He raced towards him, bounding across the grass and coming to a stop at his feet.

“Thought you’d disappeared on us, doll,” Bucky said quietly, dropping into a squat and offering Tony his hand. Tony didn’t even try to resist, weaving between his legs and brushing up against his fingers.

“You want to come home?” _Home_. The human inside of Tony shivered and he followed Bucky into the elevator, brushing up against his calf until Bucky got with the program and reached down to pick him up.

Steve was in the apartment, waiting with equal eagerness in his eyes. When Bucky crossed the space to the couch and set Tony down, he offered Steve the same treatment.

It was excellent, the way their fingers threaded through his fur, scratching behind his ears and stroking him in long, purposeful movements. When Bucky shifted and sat down next to Steve, leaving Tony with only a sliver of couch between them, Tony rolled onto his side, stretching and flexing his claws.

Steve scratched under his chin and it was heaven.

It was wrong, but it was perfect, and Tony shoved the guilt away as he eased into the dual sensation of their hands on him. He wanted to sob; it felt so good to be touched like this. To be held and cherished. Besides Pepper and Rhodey, though he rarely allowed himself to shift around these days, no one ever touched him this way.

“I missed him,” Steve admitted, the hand that wasn’t petting Tony reaching across the couch to tangle in the back of Bucky’s hair. Bucky glanced up and his gaze softened. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s lips and jealousy shot through Tony, a clear through and through in his stomach.

“I missed him too. Let’s throw on a movie and relax.”

“Do you remember how to work the DVR?” Steve asked, fiddling with the various remotes.

“Give them here.”

It was a little ridiculous, because FRIDAY could have easily resolved the situation, but eventually Bucky figured it out, cueing up one of Steve’s nature documentaries per the instructions scrawled on a sticky note on the corner of the living room table.

It was almost laughable, the pair of geriatrics that they were.

As the movie started, Bucky gently lifted Tony off the couch and set him back down, half sprawled across both their laps as Bucky snuggled in closer. Steve tucked Bucky’s head under his chin, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and tugging the blanket down across their laps.

Tony scrambled to the surface, kneading the plush fabric into place and purring so deep he dropped into the pleasant space between wake and sleep in seconds.

“I love him,” Bucky whispered, hand coming to a rest across Tony’s back.

“Be nice if it were Tony, huh Buck?”

If he’d been in his human form, Tony would have moaned, but he just let himself sink deeper into the warmth all around him, refusing to let the comment interrupt his doze.

It was hard to say how much time had passed, but when Tony woke slowly a little while later, reaching towards consciousness with a long stretch of his front legs, the living room was dark. The documentary had ended and Tony was being dumped surreptitiously onto the floor. 

Bucky and Steve were nudging him, so Tony jumped down, confused and half-awake. For a moment he watched them, blinking the sleep from his eyes as they whispered and laughed, Bucky pushing against Steve’s chest as he backed Steve towards the bedroom.

There was a thump against the wall and a soft, rapid exchange before Tony heard the familiar _snick_ of a belt buckle and zipper, then another thud that sounded like someone had dropped to their knees.

Tony perked up, instantly alert.

Absolutely not. He could put up with a lot of things, and hell, maybe coming back here wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but there was no way he was going to listen to the wonder twins fuck it out while they were keeping him as a pet.

Definitely not.

Tony stalked forward into the bedroom and was rewarded with an eyeful of Steve.

Sitting on the corner of the bed, Steve was naked, his legs spread wide and pants down around his ankles. The lower part of his abdomen was obscured by Bucky’s head, brown hair escaping from his bun where Steve had a hand wrapped tightly in his curls. The slick sounds echoing from Bucky’s mouth were borderline obscene.

Tony resisted the bolt of arousal that curled in his belly and sat down in the doorway, fixing his gaze on Steve’s face. When Steve’s eyes remained closed, head tipped back as his mouth dropped open in a silent moan, Tony gave a noisy meow.

Bucky hesitated, peeking up to gauge Steve’s reaction and when he found none, he dipped back down and resumed his work. One of his hands came up to work between Steve’s legs and this time Steve moaned aloud, low and broken.

“Oh god, yeah, come on,” Steve shifted on the bed, dropping back onto his elbows.

Tony meowed again, drawing out the sound until it was a whine and Bucky’s shoulders went rigid.

“Bucky? Oh, _fuck_ —Bucky stop. Stop, I can’t do this. Not with the cat there.”

“Then kick him out,” Bucky grumbled, hand replacing his mouth, still blocking Tony’s view with his ridiculously broad shoulders.

“I can’t! And he’ll still be out there, listening. Buck, he’s _watching_ us.”

With an exasperated groan, Bucky dropped his forehead to Steve’s thigh, rewarding Tony with the stunning sight of flawless skin and a shock of short, blond hair. Bucky shot Tony a disapproving look as Steve scrambled back into his pants. “You better be worth the trouble.”

Just because he could, Tony chirped and wandered towards the now safe-zone of the bed before he hopped up and spun circles on the mattress.

He averted his eyes when Bucky grumbled his way into his sleepwear and the two men came to settle on either side of him, Tony curled into a tight ball between them.

For a second everything was too quiet, and Tony cracked an eye open to see Bucky giving Steve a sad, quizzical look.

“Don’t,” Steve warned, and Bucky sighed, shuffling under the sheets to lay on his side and stroke Tony’s back. “Bucky…”

Tony has almost drifted back into a blissful, dreamless sleep, purring with contentment, when Bucky leaned in and pressed his forehead right against Tony’s back. Face buried in Tony’s fur, Bucky’s arm curled around him and tugged him into a hug that would have seemed almost childish if his breathing hadn’t hitched on something that sounded almost like a sob. 

“Sweetheart—”

“I don’t get it Steve. What else am I supposed to do, huh?”

“Is this still about earlier? You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“He hates me,” Bucky bit out.

“Tony doesn’t hate you.”

Tony tensed, trying to relax and let the purring continue as dread wound into a knot in his stomach. He shouldn’t be listening to this. It wasn’t right.

“He does, Steve. He can’t even stand to be near me. You saw him today, taking off the second I even came into the room.” 

Guilt slid along his spine, because Bucky wasn’t wrong. Tony had taken off but not because of Bucky. Because he needed to escape Steve’s inquiring questions and the way Bruce raised his eyebrows when he tipped too much milk into his coffee and spilled it across the counter.

Tony had been _trying_ with Bucky this week, as much as would have been normal anyway. He’d thought maybe things had even been a bit better, offering to take a look at Bucky’s arm. That had seemed a reasonable enough way to bring them onto some common footing.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure it’s not—”

“Oh, can it, Steve. It’s been months. If he hasn’t come around by now, he’s not going to. I’m always gonna to be the man that killed his parents.”

“You didn’t kill his parents. The Soldier killed his parents.” Steve said the words like a mantra, and Tony could imagine them so clearly, Bucky curled up in the bed with tears on his cheeks, Steve stroking his hair and repeating the words like a prayer.

Tony hadn’t realized that Bucky still felt this way.

“I think we should go.” Bucky whispered, and Tony watched with dismay as something flat took over his features; a painful surrender. “He’d be happier if I weren’t here. It’s hurting him to be near me. Have you seen how tired he was this week—”

“That’s not about you. That’s something else. I don’t know what, but that’s not on you.” Steve propped himself up on an elbow, nudging closer until he could get an awkward arm around Bucky with Tony still trapped in the middle.

“I don’t want to be here if it’s hurting him.”

“Maybe we could talk to him? Try again, you know?”

“Because the last time went over great, right, punk?” Bucky sniffled and tried to force a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The last time wasn’t Bucky’s fault, either. 

Tony had been an ass, that much he could admit. The resentment had been simmering below the surface for weeks and when Bucky and Steve had approached him, not long after the dust had settled and they’d moved back into the Compound, he’d lost his cool. Tony had lashed out before they’d gotten a full sentence out. 

Maybe he had more responsibility when it came to the tension between them than he cared to admit.

“Let’s just try, huh? If it doesn’t work out, we can talk about moving then. Gotta walk before you can run, right?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he wormed his way closer to Steve and let Steve press soft kisses against his lips until a swipe of tongue had Tony stiffening up and letting out a disgruntled warning.

They were crushing him. It was a reasonable response.

Steve shot Tony an annoyed look. “We’re not keeping this cat if he’s going to interfere with our sex life.”

“Is sex all you think about these days, Stevie?”

They laughed, settling back into the bed with whispered goodnights and Tony laid between them, listening to the gentle hums of their breathing as they finally fell asleep.

It was hard to know what he felt in that moment. There was more going on for the super soldiers than he’d realized, that much was true. And in all reality, he didn’t want Bucky or Steve to leave. 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted them to know about his secret, or if he knew what he could do or say to change this, but...

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he felt the same way they felt for him.

This whole thing made him feel like a peeping Tom, peeking through their curtains and learning secrets that didn’t belong to him. He shuffled around uncomfortably, restless and unable to settle. If he told them now, then what?

Once was an accident. _This_ had been a blatant choice. And a disrespectful one.

He had to stop, and he had to tell them. Or wait until they came to him and be ready to deal with it. 

That was a reasonable, responsible thing to do. Tony could manage that.

* * *

It didn’t stop. It got worse. Worse, because Tony continued to shift and find himself in Bucky and Steve’s apartment, learning more than any colleague or friend should know—seeing more than any colleague or friend should see—and avoiding them when he was in his human form.

He was coming dangerously close to having to admit that he was, in fact, a coward, finding reasons to miss Avenger meetings and dodging team dinners like it was 2012, when the tension between Tony and Steve had been thick in the air. In a way, it was almost like good old days.

Except now he was dodging two super soldiers during the day, and curling up between them at night.

Steve got over the whole _don’t fuck me, the cat is watching_ shtick within a few days, no matter how much noise Tony had made. One night, they’d tried to lock him in the bathroom and later he had rewarded Bucky with a sharp drag of claws against his calf.

So, he’d learned more about their sex life than he had any right to, listening in on fantasies where they whispered Tony’s name and tease each other until they were right on the edge.

It made the thought of coming clean feel insurmountable.

“—and then she stuck her tongue so far down my throat—”

Tony coughed, clearing his throat as Clint’s voice dragged him away from the coffee overflowing his mug with a curse as he righted the carafe and shoved it back onto the warmer. He started to mop up the mess as Natasha smacked Clint across the back of the head and muttered something about respecting women.

“You okay over there, Stark?” Natasha teased; arm thrown over the back of the couch with a light smile playing across her lips.

“Fine, fine,” Tony said, absent and lost in his thoughts. His very scattered thoughts. His very Bucky-and-Steve-focused scattered thoughts.

Christ, he was exhausted. No amount of sleep could combat the sheer amount of mental energy he was expelling over this.

“We’ve been missing you. Why are you so busy lately?” Natasha shot him a speculative look.

Tony mumbled something about work, slurping down a scalding mouthful to avoid further questioning. The only reason he’d ventured into a common space today was because he knew Steve and Bucky had had a trip to the city planned. They’d dropped him off outside the lobby on their way out and Tony had promptly shifted, changed, and meandered upstairs for a caffeine fix.

“Hey, Tony.”

Tony stiffened at the warm sound of Steve’s voice, turning around fast enough for the coffee to slosh over his hand and onto the floor. _Damn it, get it together, Stark_.

“Oh, hey Steve.” Bucky came into view behind Steve, stepping out of the elevator and through the threshold. “I thought you were supposed to be out of town today,” he blurted.

A hurt look flickered across Bucky’s face, disappearing almost as quickly as it had come and morphing into a carefully schooled expression of nonchalance. It was a face Tony knew well; he’d been known to wear one of his own once or twice.

“Yeah, I guess they were having some issue with the exhibit, so they’re going to honour our tickets for next weekend instead.”

“I’m sure they’d honour your tickets any day.” Tony wiped his hand on the bottom of his t-shirt, stepping past the spillage on the floor as Steve moved to block his path.

“Hey, listen, since you’re here… Do you have a minute?”

Bucky frowned. “Steve, I don’t think—”

“No can do, Cap. Busy, busy. You know how it is.” Tony moved to brush past him, ignoring the way that Steve’s eyebrows knitted together. He was being short, Tony knew that. They all knew it, and without even looking up he could feel Clint and Natasha watching them, already weaving a hundred possible solutions with their super-spy brain power.

“Okay. Maybe later tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe tonight.” 

Tony picked an errant tablet off the table and started clicking through it, fingers rapidly working through his emails, scanning the news, trying to show that he was busy, in a hurry, and needed to be left alone.

He took a few steps towards the elevator and Bucky and Steve moved in unison, stepping out of his way.

“Hey, you gonna clean that up?” Natasha cocked an eyebrow and when he glanced up and followed her gaze, she was staring at the coffee he’d left splattered on the ground. “We’re not animals.”

“Sorry,” Tony grunted, setting his mug and tablet back on the counter and reaching for a roll of paper towels. Steve and Bucky didn’t press the issue, walking over to the couch and sitting down together.

“Want to watch something?” Clint asked.

“Sure, Steve recorded one of those space ones everyone’s been talkin’ about. One of the Star movies. Wars? Trek? Which one, punk?”

“Hang on, hang on,” Tony listened to Steve fumbling around with the remotes. “Darn, how do you work the DVR again, Buck?”

 _That’s the fourth fucking time this week, Rogers_. The man was a complete luddite and Tony still couldn’t understand why he didn’t just involve FRIDAY. 

Over the past few weeks he had noticed a blatant absence of the AI from Steve and Bucky’s apartment and he couldn’t figure it out. She was helpful, she was knowledgeable. She was growing every day, Tony’s pride and joy, and yet Steve and Bucky rarely communicated with her.

Tony was starting to take it a little personally.

“—ony?”

Tony jerked his head up to find four pairs of eyes staring at him over the long seatback.

“What?”

Bucky was wearing a startled expression. “What did you say?” What had he said? Nothing? Tony hadn’t said a word. He replayed the last few minutes in his mind, coming up empty as he tossed the wet paper towels into the trash can. “What’s the fourth time this week?”

_Fuck_

“Uh. Nothing. Nope, didn’t say a word,” Tony forced out, already retreating out of the kitchen. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. Without a second glance, Tony was in the elevator and on route to his workshop.

Today seemed as good a day as any for a full blackout. 

* * *

Tony managed to hide in his workshop for the full afternoon and part of the evening. FRIDAY had just finished running a series of calculations on a new upgrade to Natasha’s Widow Bites when there was a knock at the glass.

He ignored it, effectively covering his eyes and pretending there was no one there. Even though he could see Steve and Bucky outside the windows, they wouldn’t be able to see in. For all they knew, he’d gone somewhere else.

“Open up, Tony. C’mon, we just want to talk to you.”

Nope, no way. Maybe in the morning there would be some logical, rational way to manage this, but for now it was back to old habits. Tony was hiding out. 

He wondered when he’d officially receive confirmation of his coward status in the mail.

Just as the knocking stopped and Tony turned back to his holograph, the workshop door swished open.

“FRIDAY what the fuck?” Tony hissed, glaring at the nearest camera as Steve and Bucky stepped into the room. The door shut with an audible smack against the wall, too loud in the space between them.

“Sorry, Boss. I’m not sure what happened. My protocols may require updating.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, you little witch. You’re lucky I don’t scrap you for parts right now—”

“Tony.” Steve’s stern voice made him wince, and Tony forced himself to be brave. He squared his shoulders, keeping his posture loose and open, and eventually dragged his eyes up to meet Steve’s. It looked like Steve had a permanent pinch etched into his forehead, confusion and distrust clearly visible on his face.

Bucky was more shuttered, mouth set in a grim line.

“Listen, whatever you’re thinking, I promise you, you’re wrong.” Tony started, splaying his hands wide in front of him. “It’s just... Really hard to explain.”

“Is it?” Steve asked, voice quiet in that tight way he had about him when he was holding back anger and getting ready to go in for the kill. “Because last I checked, we haven’t seen you in weeks. But then you said… somehow you know…”

“Are you watching our apartment?” Bucky demanded, harsh and guttural. The question momentarily threw Tony, this Bucky so at odds with the one he’d acclimatized to in recent weeks. “Is it because we disabled the robot?”

“Wait, you disabled FRIDAY? Why? How did you even know how to do that?”

“It freaks me out. PTSD.” Bucky shrugged him off. “Don’t avoid the question.”

“I am absolutely not watching your apartment.” Tony said honestly, shaking his head. He watched Steve and Bucky exchange dubious looks, and Steve took another step towards him. A few more and he could reach out and touch him. Tony resisted the urge to step back, holding himself rooted in place with more confidence than he felt. “It’s—It’s hard to explain.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Try.”

Tony opened his mouth and shut it. There was no good explanation. And there was really no alternative option that he thought Steve and Bucky would buy. He swallowed audibly, the truth sticking in his throat and fixed his eyes on a spot on the floor nearby Steve’s shoes. 

“It’s not my fault,” Tony blurted, and no, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t what he’d met. “Bucky started it.” Nope, still not right Stark. Fuck. 

Bucky was looking at him like he’d lost his mind and Steve’s patience was wearing visibly thinner. 

“Okay, it started a few weeks ago. I didn’t plan for it to happen, it just kind of… Happened… And then I didn’t stop it and—”

“Tony,” Steve said carefully, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m the cat.” The words tumbled out of his mouth and slid across the floor as he winced. “I’m the cat. That’s me. That’s a… A thing that I am. A thing I can do.” He hesitated, breathed. “I’m your cat.”

Bucky looked stricken and Steve—Christ—Steve looked like he was going to faint. The high flush that had risen on his cheeks paled into white, his Irish complexion a stark contrast to Bucky next to him.

“You’re the cat,” Bucky repeated slowly, enunciating each word and punctuating his sentence with notes of disbelief.

Tony nodded. “I’m the cat.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re the cat?” Steve demanded.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose. 

Maybe if he didn’t look at them, this would be easier. He was going to lose them. Lose this, whatever it was, and his chest flared with a familiar ache of loss. It wasn’t unlike the feeling he’d had when he’d realized that Steve and Bucky were finding their way back to each other.

It was a deep, brutal sense of loneliness.

“I don’t know why I can do it or how it happened but I’ve been this way since I was a kid. I can turn into a cat.” When the two super soldiers remained silent, Tony cracked open an eye. “What? Don’t believe me. Go ahead, ask me something. Something only I would know if I were, in fact, your house pet.”

Steve hesitated, but Bucky reached out a hand and steadied it on his arm, nodding. “What happened to Steve’s roses.”

Tony grimaced, but he forced himself to answer. “I bit the flowers off of them.”

A unique form of betrayal flashed across Steve’s features as he gaped at Tony, eyes blinking rapidly between Bucky, whose gaze was trained on Tony, and Tony, who did his best to hold Bucky’s eye. 

There it was, all laid out on the table.

Tony braced himself for the fallout.

“Why would you do that?” Steve asked, at the same time Bucky made a small, pained sound and took an unsteady step back.

“I can’t do this. I can’t be here right now.” Bucky turned on his heels and started back towards the exit.

“Bucky wait—” Steve stepped into Tony’s way, jaw tight.

Tony searched his face and paused, not knowing what to say. What could he do or say that would possibly make this right? As Bucky retreated out of the workshop, Tony could do little more than watch him go.

“You knew,” Steve said, voice quiet and layered with hurt. “You’ve known how he felt from the beginning, since that first night. You knew, and you didn’t say anything. That’s—Tony, that's a new low, even for you.”

The words stung and for half a second, Tony wished that Steve had just hauled off and punched him instead. It would have been easier to bear.

“Steve, I didn’t—”

“Weeks, Tony. Weeks.”

Steve shook his head, giving Tony one last long, disapproving look, even as heat spread back over his nose and cheeks. His eyes gave everything away, the way they always did, and Tony knew that Steve wasn’t just talking about Bucky. Tony had trespassed against them both.

He’d fucked up and he knew it.

Steve turned away and strode briskly out of the workshop. And down fell the other shoe.

* * *

Steve and Bucky avoided Tony for the better part of a week. It’s not like Tony made a significant effort to circumvent their efforts, preferring to keep his distance in the safety of his lab or shoved underneath one of the cars in the subbasement, working on whatever he could to keep his mind busy.

He refused to shift, not even once since the day they’ve found out. 

It was a unique and awful experience, feeling all the old self-loathing flood back in when Steve and Bucky had learned the truth, and left anyway. The shifting was a curse and after Howard had died, Tony had worked hard to accept this part of himself.

But here he was again, struggling with the nightmare that would always be this freakish ability no one had ever been able to explain. Tony didn’t know why he let himself think otherwise.

Tony was curled up in the back of one of his cars late on Thursday afternoon, sweat a constant prickle along the back of his neck as his skin felt alive, tugging away from muscle and bone. When one of the doors was abruptly wrenched open, he was almost spilled out onto the floor. 

Tony looked up from his back on the backseat, blinking at the upside-down glare on Bucky’s face.

“What?” He snapped.

“C’mon, we need to sort this out.”

Tony jerked back, rolling onto his side with a groan and forcing himself up off the seat. How long had it been since he last slept? Exhaustion muddled his brain, leaving him too slow on the uptake.

“What do you mean?”

“Talk, Tony. We need to talk about all this. It’s driving me insane.” Bucky growled, curling his metal fist around the edge of the doorframe. The metal whined, giving way to five perfect little dents. Tony winced; damage like that on such a priceless, vintage car was sacrilege.

“Uh. Okay. Yeah, I uh, I can do that. So listen, I’m really sorry—”

“No, not like this. Not here. Come upstairs. And do the—” Bucky waved a blithe hand in his direction. “Do the thing.”

“I’m not going to—”

“It’s why you look like death, right? Because you’re not, y’know, changin’? So just do it. And then come upstairs and we’re going to have a little chat. I’ll talk. You’ll listen. That work for you?”

What other option was he being offered?

Tony nodded slowly and Bucky grunted an affirmation, already halfway out of the subbasement before Tony had scrambled out of the car. He watched him disappear into the elevator and dropped his head into his hands. 

What the fuck was his life?

Tony shucked his clothes and shifted. The feeling of relief that rippled through his entire body was a welcomed reprieve from the itching under his skin. It was like fire ants were living right beneath the surface, the itching turning to burning and scorching him from the inside out.

Shifting was like coming back up for a fresh breath of air. He felt serene. At peace, save for the anxiety brewing in his stomach.

Tony bounded towards the elevator, waiting for FRIDAY to take him to Bucky and Steve’s apartment. When the elevator doors slid open, he hesitated, waiting just outside the threshold until the doors started to close and he bolted through the gap.

Bucky wasn’t in the living room, and when Tony took a few tentative steps forward, he located him in the bedroom. Curled in the centre of the bed, legs crossed over each other, was Bucky. There was a shadow across his brow, his eyes full as his shoulders slumped forward. 

He looked as tired as Tony felt. And that was Tony’s fault.

Padding towards him, Tony hopped onto the edge of the bed. Almost as if it didn’t belong to his body, Bucky’s metal hand shot out towards him but stopped before he touched fur. Tony rolled onto his side, showing his belly and hoping that Bucky could understand what he was conveying.

Shifting made for difficult conflict resolution.

“This is crazy,” Bucky whispered, dragging his fingers through the soft fur of Tony’s belly. “Tony, you have to know this is crazy. Why didn’t you just say somethin’?”

Tony gave him what he hoped was a quizzical look. What grown man wanted to admit he shifted into an eight-pound housecat? What _person_ wanted people to know what a freak they were?

“Don’t give me that. You still should’ve said something.” Bucky’s tone was chastising, but already Tony could feel him softening. “You have to understand that I thought you hated me. Well, you know that by now, I guess.”

Bucky sighed.

“I want to be angry with you. There’s no way you’d be able to make this sound okay, and I think you already know that. I should be pissed, right? Because of trust and the invasion of privacy and all of that. I’m not, Tony. I’m just hurt.”

Tony whined a soft meow, curling closer to Bucky and nudging his head against Bucky’s knee. The stroking continued, rhythmic and peaceful over his back, as if Bucky were grounding them both.

“I’m embarrassed,” Bucky muttered. “You heard us… you saw us—” Bucky broke off and a blush spread across his face, trailing down over the long lines of his throat. “I feel ridiculous. Exposed. So just tell me: was it all just a game? You enjoyed bein’ taken care of, or you thought it was funny, or whatever?”

Tony cocked his head, flicking his tail back and forth. 

Of course, it hadn’t been a game. It hadn’t started as one, and never for a minute had Tony felt that way. He narrowed his eyes and flattened down his ears, watching Bucky nod thoughtfully. Maybe Bucky could just tell what he meant. 

When Bucky was ready, Tony would make this right. He’d tell him whatever he needed to hear, do whatever he had to.

It had never been a game and Tony had never anticipated falling for them. Though, now, it seems so glaringly obvious that he should have realized it from the very beginning.

The clouds thickened behind Bucky’s stormy grey-green eyes. “I’m sorry about your parents, Tony. You’ve never let me actually say it. I’m so sorry.”

Tony looked away. The stroking continued and he tried to relax.

“I hope you can forgive me. You already know that I, well, that Steve and I… We care. About you. And it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way. But I hope that you can at least try and forgive me for what I did.”

If Tony had been in his own body, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back the tears. 

Bucky sounded so broken, so decidedly ruined by the weight of the horrors he’d committed, and there was nothing Tony could say to make it right in this moment. Bucky deserved to be reassured and, if he could have, Tony would whisper the same words Steve had said, _you didn’t kill my parents, the Soldier killed my parents_.

Why had he agreed to this ridiculous pretense?

Tony pushed out of his crouch and stepped into Bucky’s crossed legs, curling up with his face pressed into Bucky’s abdomen and kneading at his thigh with his paws. Careful to keep his claws tucked away, Tony purred, low in his throat in the only way he could think of to sooth Bucky. 

“You’re going to tell me, right? You’re going to tell me whether or not there’s something here?” Bucky’s voice was soft, so soft, and Tony pressed in harder, arching up into Bucky’s touch. Of course, he’d tell him. He’d tell both of them, if Steve would give him the time of day too.

“Buck?” 

Speak of the devil.

Steve appeared in the doorway, clothes dotted with water marks like he’d been caught in the rain. He took one sight of Tony in Bucky’s lap and he frowned.

“What’s going on?”

“Tony and I are working it out,” Bucky explained, as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world. “It felt easier, this way.”

“I see. And what did you work out?”

Tony could feel Bucky’s eyes on him and he kept his head down and his eyes closed, starting to work at the patch of skin where Bucky’s shirt had ridden up.

“I think he forgives me, Steve.”

Steve paused for a beat. “And do you forgive him?”

While Bucky mulled over the question, the doubt that lived in Tony’s chest thrummed with fear. Tony was so close. So close, and he didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want to fuck this up.

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered finally. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay.” Steve crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside Bucky, curling his arm around his shoulder and tugging him into the apex of his shoulder. Bucky went willingly, gliding into the space Steve had created with Tony still balanced in his lap. After a second, Steve’s hand came down and started stroking over Tony’s back. He purred harder, relaxing into the rhythm.

Maybe there was more of a chance than he’d thought.

He lingered between them for as long as he could, soaking up every ounce of physical contact as if he could somehow meet the never-ending quota. He felt greedy, basking in the feel of Steve and Bucky’s hands on his skin and at some point, he must’ve fallen asleep.

After so long without a shift, his body was singing with comfort and peace. His brain was quiet for the first time in days. 

But eventually, Tony had to face the music. Bucky was gently nudging him out of his lap and murmuring something about how he should go and turn back.

When Tony peeked up through his eyelashes, Steve’s face was unreadable as if he was carefully moulding an expression that avoided giving anything away. 

Bucky had forgiven him. Would Steve?

Tony padded off to the bathroom and shifted back, wrapping one of the massive bathrobes around himself until he was drowning in it. Collecting what little courage he could find, Tony walked back towards the bedroom, pausing in the doorframe.

Steve and Bucky were still sitting in the middle of the bed, staring at him. In that moment, Tony was exposed and vulnerable. There was something intensely intimate about his bare feet against their floor, the way he could feel air move against his naked calves. 

The belt at his waist didn’t feel tight enough and Tony fiddled with it, yanking it until it was constricting too tight around his midsection.

“I fucked up,” he blurted, looking down at his hands and back up at Steve and Bucky. “I know I fucked up. I know it wasn’t okay. I have absolutely no excuse and I’m kind of surprised you don’t want to punch me in the face right now.”

“Who says we don’t want to punch you in the face?” Bucky countered, and it may have been intended as a light banter but Tony winced. He ignored the jab and pushed on.

“It wasn’t a game. I didn’t want either of you to get hurt. It was an accident the first time and then I heard you talking about—about all of us—” Tony scrubbed a hand across his jaw and lost his nerve again, fixing his eyes on the corner of the mattress. “I wasn’t going to come back but then I did and things just started getting worse and I didn’t know how I would tell you. I started to get to know you, Bucky and I missed Steve and I… I liked getting to be close to you. I know that doesn’t make it okay.” By the time he finished, his voice had trailed off into a whisper.

He’d forced it all out though, every last painful word.

“No, it doesn’t.” Steve said and Tony tried not to scrunch up his face. He felt rubbed raw, as exposed as he imagined Bucky had been feeling since he’d learned the truth. It was karma, then. “I wish you’d just said something. If you’d just been honest with us, Tony...”

“I know.”

“So,” Bucky asked, voice casual but when Tony flicked his eyes up to look at him, there was something tense hovering around the corner of his mouth. “Does this mean you feel the same way, then?”

Tony swallowed. “Yeah, that’s what that means.”

“Alright then.” Bucky clapped his hands together and as he slid off the bed and walked towards Tony, Steve’s eyebrows knitted together.

“That’s it, Buck?”

“Well whaddaya want him to do, Steve? Grovel? He’s already said he’s sorry. We’ve just shoved three or four conversations all into one really fuckin’ odd one.” Bucky pressed into Tony’s space and he took an instinctive step back, brushing up against the wall. Tony’s heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears as Bucky leaned over him and rested the metal arm against the doorframe. “Right, Tony?”

“Right,” Tony croaked.

“So what else is there to say?”

Bucky smiled, tilted his head and kissed him. 

Fireworks exploded behind Tony’s eyes and for the first time he felt something better than any shift he’d had in his life. Bucky kissed him with purpose, every miniscule brush of his lips over Tony’s a promise of something more.

Tony made a surprised noise and Bucky swallowed it down, taking the opportunity to sweep a curious tongue into his mouth until it touched Tony’s and danced away. Tony’s brain caught up and got with the program and he tangled a hand in Bucky’s hair, yanking him down and kissing him back. 

Then it was a battle, all wet kisses and grasping hands until Tony was gasping, thoroughly apologetic and alarmingly aroused.

“Hey.”

Tony jumped when he realized that, at some point, Steve had crossed the room and was now standing at Bucky’s shoulder, pulling Bucky back with a firm hand. Bucky made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, a light pink painted across his cheeks and his eyes were deliciously hazy. 

There was a question in Steve’s eyes as he brushed his knuckles over Tony’s cheek and Tony lifted his chin by a fraction. Steve kissed him exactly like he’d always imagined. Sweet and soft, almost sensual. It was different from Bucky, with his frontal assault and his obvious desire to possess Tony.

Steve gently urged his lips apart, sneaking his tongue inside only after Tony was melting against him. It was subtle, marked by the same intention of breaking Tony down to his atomic structure, but delicate. _Loving_ , Tony thought. 

Steve kissed him as if he loved him.

“Wait—” Tony broke away, a hand on Steve’s chest. He searched both of their faces and was too overwhelmed by the emotions he found there to begin to process. “Why do you want this? This is insane, right? How could you possibly—”

“How could we not, Tony?” Steve toyed with the hair at Tony’s nape and he held back a shiver.

Yes, just as good as when he was shifted. Better, even.

“Because I’m pushing fifty and I turn into a housecat? I have about a hundred and twelve neuroses and a proclivity for booze? I get myself into—”

“Only a hundred and twelve?” Bucky asked, voice rough. A smile danced across his lips and it was hands-down the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen.

“None of it matters. We want you. Might go so far as to say we lo—” Tony clapped a hand over Steve’s mouth.

“Okay. It’s been an emotional day. Can we save that one for later? Tomorrow?”

Steve pulled his hand away and bent down to kiss him again, lips moving against in a soft whisper. 

“Sure, Tony. Whenever you’re ready, the answer will be the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I finished writing the story, I decided the boys deserved a smutty ending (Tony was watching them when he shouldn't have been, after all) so please enjoy shameless smut in Chapter 2.


	2. Chapter 2

“The way I see it, you owe us,” Bucky said, stalking towards Tony with that air of sexy arrogance Tony’s come to admire. Everything in Bucky’s demeanour screamed challenge and dominance, and it would be no trouble at all to submit. “What do you think, Steve?”

Steve lingered behind them with his hip propped against the doorway. They were supposed to be here picking him up for dinner. Tony had just finished buttoning his sleeves and was fiddling with his tie when they’d arrived in his suite.

It’d only been a few days and despite countless conversations, making out for hours with some exceptionally heavy petting, and falling asleep in their bed last night, Tony still felt nervous. Every time he saw them, even in passing through the hallway, his heart rate ramped up and something fluttered in his stomach.

The anticipation was killing him.

“I think you y’might be right,” Steve said with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “I mean, he watched us for weeks, right? Seems to me like we deserve a little show of our own.”

The quiet demand in Steve’s tone made Tony shiver. As Bucky advanced towards him, he kept backing up, retreating until his legs bumped against the bed and he was forced to sink down with his hands braced behind him. Bucky didn’t stop. He stepped between Tony’s spread thighs, leaned down until their mouths were almost touching and lingered there, sharing Tony’s air.

Tony swallowed, audibly.

“Two against one, darlin’. Better get used to that.” Bucky kissed him, warm and open, capturing his jaw in his flesh hand to tilt his head up. Across the room, Steve groaned and the thrill of him watching crackled along Tony’s nerve endings.

As their tongues swirled together, Tony tangled his fist in Bucky’s hair which hung loose to his shoulders. He tried to keep Bucky in place, convincing himself that he still had some semblance of control over the exchange even when he knew he’d already lost.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then.” 

Bucky pressed a flurry of kisses into his jaw, trailing sideways to suck a dark bruise just below Tony’s collar. In seconds, he went from moderately aroused to aching and desperate, cock twitching in his pants.

“Wait,” Tony rasped, surprised at how wrecked his voice was. Bucky paused but left his hands resting against Tony’s thighs where they had been creeping up towards the zipper on his slacks. “Steve needs a better view.”

Biting out an expletive, Steve crossed the room with superhuman speed and then Tony had four hands on him, the bed dipping down on either side as Steve and Bucky settled next to him. Steve tipped his head to the side and kissed him, deep and smooth, as if he wanted to slowly take Tony apart, piece by piece.

It was a delicious contrast to the way Bucky’s fingers fumbled his belt open and tugged his pants out from under his hips. Bucky had lifted him effortlessly with the metal arm and if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing that had ever happened to Tony—

“You’re so beautiful, Tony,” Steve’s breath was a soft caress against his mouth and Tony smiled into the kiss.

A dull thump startled a laugh out of Tony and he jerked back, taking in Steve’s betrayed expression from where Bucky had whacked on the back of the head.

“No time for romance,” Bucky said, mouth on Tony’s collarbone as he started pawing at his jacket and shirt. “We did that already. This is supposed to be dirty. Dirty, hot, filthy sex where Tony shows us just how sorry he is for all the times he spied on us.”

Buttons give way and Tony couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. In moments, he was down to nothing but a pair of thin boxers. They did nothing to hide how much all of this was working for him.

“Ah, fuck.” Tony’s hips moved of their own accord when Steve slid his hand across Tony’s stomach, wrapping his massive palm around Tony’s hip and squeezing.

“Right, sorry.” Steve kissed him again, all tongue, chasing after the rapidly dissolving ends of Tony’s resolve. “Don’t want to interrupt the show.”

“Strip, doll,” Bucky ordered.

A bolt of arousal shot down to where his cock was standing at attention and Tony shuddered, following the orders in a fluid motion as he pushed his boxers down and off the edge of the bed. They were both still fully dressed and something about that sent Tony’s excitement rocketing up a few notches.

“Now that’s a gorgeous sight.” Steve trailed his fingers lower over Tony’s thigh, intentionally avoiding his erection. It jerked towards Steve’s touch as he passed by and Bucky grinned into Tony’s shoulder, nipping at the skin.

“Such a pretty cock, isn’t it, Stevie?” Bucky tipped Tony’s face towards him again and captured his lips, biting at his bottom lip. “Can’t wait to see him coming all over himself. How many times do you think he thought about this while he was watchin’ us?”

Tony moaned into the kiss because Bucky was right. He’s thought about this—well, not quite this, he could have never imagined _this_ —so many times and it was already better than his wildest fantasies.

“Maybe if we ask him to, he’ll tell us about it while he jerks off,” Steve suggested, the innocence in his tone standing in stark contrast to the way he slowly started to fist Tony’s cock. Steve gave him one miniscule stroke, feather-light and not nearly enough stimulation and Tony whined, thrusting into nothing when Steve hand disappeared.

“Make it an order and he’ll have to.”

Tony pulled back from the kiss. Not that that wasn’t hot as hell, but…

“Aren’t you going to join me?”

Bucky gave him a dark look and everything dialed up to eleven as pleasure thrilled along Tony’s spine. “Maybe after. For now, Steve and I are going to sit here and watch you play with that pretty cock because fair’s fair. Let us know if you need any inspiration. We’d be happy to help.”

Tony swallowed, mouth dry.

Wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock, Tony stroked up the length and held Bucky’s eye contact. Steve drew a ragged breath beside them and a new rush of heat pulsed down between his legs. Tony’s balls were heavy and full. Christ, he was already desperate, so close to the edge and they’d barely touched him.

“Steve, grab the lube in the side table,” Tony ordered, spreading his legs a little wider and leaning back until he was balanced on one elbow. Steve scrambled across the bed as Bucky leaned down to suck Tony’s tongue into his mouth and when he returned, Steve dripped a puddle of slick into the centre of Tony’s waiting palm.

Tony started to stroke himself in earnest with long, measured tugs, finishing with a little squeeze just under the head. It was exactly what he liked and paired with Steve’s warmth at his hip and Bucky’s weight pressing him down into the mattress, it was almost too much.

“You’re hogging him,” Steve muttered and when they trade off, Tony wondered if he’d miscalculated. The orgasm was already building in his stomach and it’d be nothing to speed up his strokes and let himself tip over the edge.

The predatory look in Bucky’s eyes said otherwise. “Slow down, Tony. No rush, right, doll?”

Slowing his hand, Tony resisted the urge to thrust up into his fist. It was so good and they were right there with all those _hands_. This time, Tony didn’t just feel exposed, he felt bare, spread open and on display.

“Let’s hear those fantasies, sweetheart.” Steve’s lips swerved off to the side, licking a path up his neck before capturing his earlobe and sucking it into his mouth. Tony jolted forward into his fist and was forced to squeeze himself at the base to avoid popping off like a teenager. Though, if Steve kept talking and Bucky kept sucking, Tony wasn’t sure he’d have much of a choice.

“Which one?” Tony teased, eyes dropping closed and he let his head fall back. Arching forward, he offered himself up for their attention. Modesty had never been his strong suit, but he wasn’t hearing any complaints. “It’s so hard to choose. That first night is a fan favourite. Bucky sucking you off on his knees? I didn’t know which of you I was more jealous of.”

Steve groaned into his throat, readjusting himself through his jeans. When could they give up the game? Tony needed to shove Steve’s pants down and suck him down to the root, or better yet, alternate between them both..

Bucky distracted him. “Scoot up the bed. Lie down and get that other hand on yourself.”

Tony hesitated, but complied, scrambling backwards until he was propped up against overstuffed pillows and teasing a second hand down between his legs, cupping and rolling his balls in his other hand.

Steve and Bucky were further away now and as he splayed his legs wide, they looked up the length of his body. The heat in their eyes sets him ablaze.

“That’s perfect, Tony,” Steve said, voice tight. The praise went straight to his head and Tony bit out a surprised, breathy noise that didn’t belong to him. How long had he been waiting to hear _that_?

“Oh, he likes that. Tell him something else. Tell him how fucking good he’s being right now. How he’s everything we’ve ever wanted. Tell him he’s made for us, Steve. Tell him that he’s _ours_.

Biting down on his lip, Tony tried to hold back the whine brewing in his throat as he pumped up into his fist. Bucky’s thick voice washed over him, a full body caress, warming his skin from shoulder to toes and he never wanted Bucky to stop talking.

“Think you’ve taken care of that,” Steve said, dryly. “What else did you think about Tony, when you watched us together?”

Words were harder to form, floating in the soup that was once his brain. “Never— _fuck_ —never expected you to be a bottom. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Watching Bucky fuck you. Thinking about how badly I wanted to fuck you. Wanted Bucky to fuck me while I fucked you.” Tony broke off with a low groan, a fresh spurt of pearly precome dripping from the tip of his cock and down over his fingers.

“Christ alive,” Bucky growled, suddenly right at his side, pressing Tony down into the mattress with a hand on his hip. But he didn’t touch him; didn’t reach between his legs like Tony was desperate for. Bucky just held him down as he tried to thrust into his own grip, bringing to life a new flurry of possibilities involving restraint and desperation and pleading for Bucky let him come.

“We’ve been dreaming about being inside of you for months.” Steve was crawling up his other side, mouth licking at one of his nipples. “Bet you’re perfect, Tony. Everything we’ve been waiting for. Show us.”

And then Steve’s slick hand was pulling away the fingers Tony had wrapped around his balls to add a fresh squeeze of lube. Leading his hand down, Steve strokes their fingers together in a hot line over the furl of his hole.

“Oh, fuck!” Tony squirmed against the sensation, trying to shove back before Steve pulled his hand away but in the end it’s only his own fingers, two at once breaching him and creating a delicious stretch. It would have been better if Steve or Bucky, or even both of them, was opening him up and getting him ready, but he could make do.

Tony could put on a great show after all.

Shifting his hips up, Tony never stopped the glide of his hand on his cock and was rapidly picking up speed as he buried his fingers deep in his ass. The angle is awkward but when Tony started curling his fingers against his prostate, colour exploded behind his eyelids and he struggled to keep them open as a bitten off moan escaped.

On either side of him, Bucky and Steve were panting a melody of little groans, interspersed with ragged gasps. Between whispers of praise, Steve tossed in curses Tony hadn’t expected and the filth that started to spill from his mouth only escalated the desire, bringing Tony to new heights.

They hadn’t even _touched_ him yet.

“Shit, just look at you,” Bucky’s voice was gravel in his ear, pressing down on his hip until he forced a moan out of Tony. “Fingers up your ass and a hand on your cock. Just how you should always be for us, isn’t that right, Tony?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, Bucky, yes.”

“He sounds so good saying your name like that.” Steve nosed at Tony’s throat, leaning up to press a kiss to Tony’s open mouth. It was hardly a peck because Tony was so far gone he didn’t even bother to kiss back, too focused on the slick sounds of his fist flying over his cock and his fingers crooking inside his ass. Every time Steve and Bucky brushed up against him it was like brands pressing into his skin.

“Steve,” Tony whined, throwing his head back as he barrelled towards climax.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot, Tony. Come on, come on, sweetheart. You’re so perfect. Come now, for us.”

Bucky groaned, echoing the sentiment. “Come. Now, Tony. Fucking come.”

Tony cried out as the orgasm ripped through him, tearing at the confines of his chest and escaping past his lips before he could stop it. Pleasure exploded through his brain and Tony was floating, unable to string his thoughts together as wave after wave of release pulsed through his body and spurted out onto his stomach.

He gasped when Bucky licked across his chest, chasing the white lines of his come over his nipple and Steve mouthed at the spot on his chin. Another rush of release spilled over his cock, trickling down into his fist as he panted and tried to remember what it meant to form words. 

Fuck, they were going to kill him.

Tony threw his forearm over his eyes, sinking boneless into the mattress. 

“That sure was somethin’, sweet thing,” Bucky whispered in his ear, pulling him against his chest. A moment later Steve was there—when had he left?—wiping at his chest and stomach with a warm cloth.

“Amazing, Tony.”

“I know I said I was sorry for watching,” Tony mumbled, as soon as he could catch his breath, “but I was lying. I’m not sorry at all.”

Steve laughed, low and warm in his ear. “Guess we’ll just have to figure out a new type of punishment.”

“Maybe tomorrow, we’re not all super soldiers. Some of us need a little recovery time.” The snark came as second nature but Tony glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the way Steve’s eyes were sparkling up at him. 

“Or maybe you just lie back and relax,” Bucky suggested.

Tony grinned, tucking his hands under his head and splaying shameless across the sheets as Steve’s eyes went dark. In a flurry of movements, Steve and Bucky were pulled together like magnets and finally they started to shove at each other’s clothes.

“A man could get used to this,” Tony said with a cheeky smirk. 

Bucky swatted him on the hip but when he leaned down and got to work on Steve’s cock, all the talking stopped and Tony got his chance to put his hands all over that flawless expanse of skin after all.

Perhaps there were some perks to Tony's curse after all. 


End file.
